


I'll Write This Instead of Being an Adult

by Momma_Time



Series: Random Tumblr Crap [21]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crack, Ficlets, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Fic, Kid Inquisitor, M/M, Multi, Mutual Pining, Thoughts of Violence, betas are for the weak, canon is thrown out the window and shit goes down and gets weird, dad ameridan, for the first two yall will need some serious tinfoil hats okay, no actual mating happens bc just no, noncon potion use, tomarry - Freeform, wampus mating rituals compared to human mating rituals would be a fun topic to study don't you think
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2020-04-05 03:24:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19040161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Momma_Time/pseuds/Momma_Time
Summary: This will be a multi-fandom fic dump for whatever thought pops into my head that's outside of any main long stories I'm working on.Chapter 1 will be a table of contents to let you know the fandom and what characters are going to be featured in each chapter, along with that chapter's specific rating.





	1. Table of Contents

**Author's Note:**

> Bc this is apparently a problem again now, here's a little diddy.  
> Disclaimer: This work was written for publication on Archive of Our Own and my personal Tumblr (ixhadbadxdays and momma-times-writings) and is not for profit. Any re-publication on for-profit/monetized sites/apps is not authorized or supported by me. If you come across such a re-publication, please leave a comment in my Tumblr ask box. Podfics and translations may be authorized upon request.  
> If you're reading this on Pocket Archive, it's stolen material.

We'll skip chapter 1 since this is, you know, what is technically labeled as chapter 1.

 

Chapter 2: Dragon Age: Inquisition; Jaws of Hakkon DLC; Kid!Inquisitor, Ameridan, Cassandra; Background-ish Cole and The Iron Bull; Teen for language

Chapter 3: Dragon Age: Inquisition; Jaws of Hakkon DLC; Kid!Inquisitor, Ameridan, Cassandra, Solas; Background-ish The Iron Bull and Cole; Teen

Chapter 4: Harry Potter; Tomarry; Harry Potter, Tom Riddle; Background Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley; Teen

Chapter 5: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them; Gramander; Newt Scamander, Percival Graves, Tina Goldstein; Teen  **Warnings: Non-Con Potion usage**

Chapter 6: Overwatch; B.O.B. x Orisa; Orisa, B.O.B.; General


	2. A Child He Never Had; Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An AU in which the Inquisitor is still a child, by Dalish tradition and Ameridan sticks it out because dammit there's a kid here and a kid shouldn't be doing all of this shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one doesn't require as much tinfoil as the next part of it will, but just suspend your beliefs for the moment and accept HCs as truth.
> 
> If I like, misspelled anything, please tell me so I can go back and fix it. Thank.

Ameridan felt consciousness return to him slowly, as if he were moving through a thick fog made of pea soup that was popular among the nobles in Orlais. Drugged, would be another way to describe it, he supposed. Perhaps from consuming too much elfroot again, as he had in his youth on a dare.

His limbs and head felt heavy, and Ameridan contemplated hibernating like a bear for a few years. But, no, he needed to get back to Drakon, to finish helping his friend in uniting Thedas against a threat against all life. There was still so much work to be done, to solidify their ties to the Chantry, to settle the militant factions that answered _to_  the Chantry. Ameridan wasn't alert enough to wrap his mind around the remaining tasks that demanded his attention when he returned home.

Slowly, he raised his head to look at the small group who had freed him.

A woman, wearing a Seeker's symbol on her breastplate and seeming more battle-hardened and wise beyond her years stood front and center of the quartet. Ameridan could see the youth hidden behind dark, intelligent eyes, but the scars and lines and posture told him she was the most skilled and well-trained among the visitors.

Another was a young man to the right of her, with daggers still clutched tightly in his hands, though they were pointed downward to appear as less of a threat. Blond, scraggly hair peeked out from beneath his wide-brimmed hat, and his leathers looked too worn for someone so young. There was a soft, green glow to him, an aura that Ameridan could only see in his peripheral. Spirit then, or spirit touched. Ameridan couldn't tell from here.

A third was an imposing Qunari to the woman's left, horns wide like those of the cattle he'd seen in the farmlands of Fereldan. His battle axe was still out, and his eyes kept flicking between Ameridan and the dragon Ameridan had kept in stasis for a few weeks—he was guessing; Ameridan didn't know how long he'd been here. The Qunari too, had seen his fair share of blood and the cries of the dying. His demeanor spoke of someone who was used to the position of a commander, a man who knew how to lead a formidable group, however big or small they were in number.

The fourth, the smallest and tucked inside the middle of the group, was the one that caused Ameridan to pause and feel his heart sink in a feeling of loss and dread he did not know he possessed. A girl with dark skin and impossibly bright, umber eyes. Her white Vallaslin was incomplete; it appeared to be the start of a marking for Dirthamen—she wasn't even of age. What was she doing here? This was no place for a child!

Her staff was sized to fit her, though, by her stance, she was unused to using it. Ameridan would hazard a guess that the girl preferred to use her magic without a conduit, no matter the cost to the power behind her spells. He thought he saw the glimmer of a blade at the base. So she used her staff for close combat, or perhaps it was a back-up for when she had no choice.

"Why is there a child in such a dangerous place?" he asked softly, voice rough from the time he'd spent in stasis, almost asleep but not. It was not the first question he would have liked to have asked, but seeing a child in their midst, with an Avvar god hovering above the stone floor beside them, took precedence in his mind.

The three older members grimaced, and the Seeker spoke first.

"Inquisitor Ameridan, it is an honor to meet you. We guard our inquisitor with our lives—we don't want to expose Myrna to the danger of the wilds or of combat, but her assistance is paramount in closing the rifts into the fade. There is no one else, or we would not have brought her here." Her dark eyes shifted to the side as if she wanted to look back at the girl, Myrna, she was called. Ameridan saw regret, a pain that rivaled that of a mother who hated to see her child leave for war. She wasn't the girl's mother, but the Seeker cared for the girl just the same.

Myrna looked uncomfortable, and Ameridan noted how her shoulders tensed, rising a hair towards her ears. "I...didn't ask for this, Inquisitor, but I understand why I need to be here. I go where I'm needed willingly."

Ameridan closed his eyes and bowed his head, sending a quick prayer to the Maker, to petition for the girl's safety and life.  
  
His mother would have undoubtedly stepped in to guard the girl, out of the entirety of his family; he was sure of it.

If only she were actually here to hear his silent plea.

He needed to change the subject before he gave a lecture that his "guests" likely didn't want and that none of them had time for. His temper over the matter would be the end of them all if he let it get away from him.

"I am glad Drakon's friendship with our people has remained strong, though I do not understand why he would put a child in my place. Drakon has never been this foolish. If he needed her aid, I see the reasoning behind a guard such as this, but as an inquisitor? Is he mad?"

The Seeker spoke once more, with the grimace of someone who didn't want to be the messenger of terrible news. Ameridan felt dread fall like a weight in his stomach; he didn't know what she would say, but he had a hunch, knew it would be the last thing he wanted to hear. "The relationship between the throne and the elves have not. Drakon's son, Kordillus the Second, destroyed the Dales."

"Drakon's...son?" Gods, no. He didn't want to ask his next question, but— "How long?" he asked softly. He couldn't look at them, couldn't bring himself to meet the eyes of those that pitied him. His friends, his lover, the apparent crumbling of relations between the elves and the crown...already he knew no amount of time would be enough for mourning the loss.

"You were the last Inquisitor," the Seeker continued. "Myrna is the first since you disappeared eight hundred years ago."

Why had Drakon abandoned him? Ameridan was torn between betrayal, hurt, and rage. The pain of being left behind by his best friend won out. "Drakon was my oldest friend. He would have sent someone out to find me. I know he would have."

"He didn't get to," Myrna said, avoiding his eyes when he looked up at her. "The darkspawn flooded the Anderfels and meant to invade the rest of Orlais. It was a bigger threat to everyone shortly after you left. He needed to stop it before he could send someone to look for you. I'm sorry, sir."

"I see." He needed one more hope. Something happy that he could cling to. "Telana escaped the battle, survived the darkspawn invasion? Did she...Do the records say what became of her?" Please let her have been safe, please let her have escaped and given the chance to start over, bond with someone stronger and with fewer responsibilities than he.

"She came back to find you. We think we found where she died. She...Telana tried to reach you through dreams, but it...the memory left behind sounded...sad. She couldn't find you." Myrna seemed heartbroken by the prospect of not reaching someone she loved, that they were taken from her. Ameridan wondered who she had lost, who she looked for but couldn't find. "I'm sorry."

So that was it then. Telana hadn't survived this terrible battle after all. Part of him, a part he despised at that moment, felt joy that she had even tried, that she loved him enough to make an attempt. Ameridan beat it down quickly, hating himself for even thinking it. It cost her her life; he wasn't worth that.

"I asked her not to," he said softly. Ameridan could feel his throat closing tightly around and the pain of not seeing her again in this life, and from knowing that she died because of him. "She was a good hunter and the love of my life, but she didn't listen...and I...I never wanted this job!" Ameridan had to force himself not to shout, to yell and scream; these four didn't deserve it, had no control over what happened eight hundred years ago. "Hunting demons was so much simpler than politics. And it cost so little in comparison."  
  
There were a few moments of silence as the visitors gave him time to think about the situation and the changes.  
  
"Inquisitor Ameridan, how could the leader of the Seekers be a mage?" the woman finally asked.  
  
His status as a mage? That's what the Seeker was focusing on? When there was so much else to worry about?  
  
Ameridan took a slow breath. Perhaps she was trying to move them away from a painful conversation Ameridan didn't want to have. To a point, he was grateful for the change. Now was not the time to grieve. Not yet.

"Has history forgotten that much of us? I was not a Seeker like inquisitors before me. I used my magic for hunting demons and Maleficarum. Do the Seekers turn away mages now? What happened to turn them against one another? The relationship between them was amicable when I...when I was still present."

"No. That was forgotten, like so many other truths." The tranquility ritual crossed his mind. Damn them. They didn't listen to me either, did they? he thought miserably. What was the point of this position if no one listened to him?

After a pause, Myrna seemed to scramble to follow the social norm, having forgotten them.  
  
"Oh! And Inquisitor Ameridan, I'm sorry. This is Cassandra Pentaghast, she's one of the few Seekers left at present." Ameridan wanted to know why there were so few, but it wasn't important at the moment. "This is The Iron Bull, commander of the Chargers, and this is Cole. I'm the current Inquisitor, Myrna of clan Lavellan. I'm sorry for not introducing us sooner. I just...sort of forgot." Ameridan offered a slight bow of the head in his own form of greeting, too tired and emotional to do much else. Truth be told, he had forgotten as well. Having a god trapped in a dragon's body and finding out everyone you loved was dead tended to make things like formalities cast to the wayside.

A child was the Inquisitor and was trying to lead, what, the Seekers and Templars or... Ameridan didn't know who was _left_  to lead if so many things had changed. Myrna appeared to be trying her best to fill the role, to hold herself to the impossible standards set for someone in their shared position.

Ameridan longed to shelter the girl from it all. He and Telana had dreamed of having a child—or four—after the dust settled. A child they would never have now. His paternal instincts he'd developed over the years in corralling his companions were intact, he supposed. He didn't get to use them on any actual children. Not often, anyway.

"Your predecessors were good men and women in difficult times," he started slowly, addressing Cassandra though his eyes never left the elf. "When the inquisition joined forces with the Chantry, we required a leader who inspired loyalty, not fear. Drakon requested that I take up the mantle, knowing that I would be capable of succeeding in uniting the masses. I was needed, as you are now, Youngling." His gaze softened. "Which do you inspire, Inquisitor?"

"I..." She shifted from one foot to the other, glancing at Cole who was strategically positioned at her right flank, before returning Ameridan's gaze. "I try to...inspire loyalty through hope. They see me as a... personification of hope, I think?"

Ameridan gave her a short nod and fell into a thoughtful silence. Cole, however, added to Myrna's claim. "She glows, bright and beautiful and gentle. They see her as the Maker's grace, as love and...and hope."  
  
He was struggling to voice his thoughts, Ameridan noted. Nervous? The young man was fond of the girl, though Ameridan was unsure what kind of fondness it was; he, for just a moment, forgot himself and wanted to defend the girl's name, as if the boy's intentions were not honorable. He shook that thought when pale, blue-gray eyes met his, and a look of understanding crossed his face. Cole shook his head subtly, and Ameridan had to wonder how the boy knew his thoughts. "Myrna is like you. She unites? Unites. She is a happy presence for them, a joyful oasis in darkness and hate and cold. She brings people from the dark, to the light with a hand held out to them, reaching and grasping. They take it and feel relief."

The girl shot Cole a grateful smile, albeit a timid one.

"Then that is all I can ask of you as a leader, Inquisitor." He looked at the dragon beside him and felt another wave of dread wash over him. Ameridan knew he couldn't fight this god, knew he didn't have the strength for it, even with their help. "I have locked us both away for many years, but a faction of the Avvar who worship Hakkon have tried to free it. I assume you know this if you are here now. This dragon was a vessel for Hakkon until they tried to move him to another, and I am powerless to stop that spirit. I no longer have the strength for it. I cannot fight it, kill it. I am sorry, child, but this will be a task for you and your followers. I...wish I didn't have to burden you all with this."  
  
"I understand, sir." Myrna swallowed, and Ameridan watched as she tried to calm herself, to not let fear control her.  
  
It is admirable, Ameridan thought to himself. Many of his people—of the soldiers in Drakon's army and under the employ of the Chantry—didn't show half as much courage and determination as this child.  
  
It was grieving him.  
  
"Sir, I..." She stopped herself before inclining her head to him. "Thank you for telling us and for taking the time to answer our questions. We know you're tired."  
  
Ameridan felt his lips twitch towards a smile. He shouldn't stay. He should let Time have him and join Telana at the Maker's side, let his brother guide him home. But, Telana would throttle him for leaving this girl by herself to fight whatever evil plagued the world this time, even if she did have the help and loyalty of the masses. Telana would never let him hear the end of it, nor would Drakon. One or both of them would cuff his ears or worse, with the Maker watching the spectacle while eating bonbons or such treats as if it were entertainment. The pair of them were fearless and a formidable team when they stood against Ameridan. Usually, it happened when he worked himself to exhaustion, needing to finish whatever task had his attention. They'd physically fight him if it meant getting him to bed, or to eat.  
  
He would stay, for now. Ameridan didn't know how long he would be able to, but he would do what he could, while he could.  
  
"I do not have the strength to fight, but I may have enough to support you from a distance. I could heal, or throw up a small shield against Hakkon's breath, though I cannot promise that I can do it for long, or that it will have the strength needed to fend off any harm."

Myrna's eyes widened, and she quickly shook her head. "Inquisitor, you don't have to. We—we can manage it."

Sweet.

"I would like for you to do more than just manage it," he assured her. "But after this, I do ask that I be allowed a nap, at the very least."  
  
"We may just join you," The Iron Bull muttered. "Gods, spirits that these crazy southerners summon, fucking demons. Boss, you owe me a round when we get back. Or three."  
  
Myrna grinned and turned around to pat his arm. "I think I can do that. Only if I can join you, though."  
  
"I'm not gonna give you alcohol, kid. Cassandra over there would string me up by my toenails, and from experience, I wouldn't recommend it. That's if Varric and Dorian don't get to me first. Or all three."  
  
"I would do more than that," Cassandra growled.

Cole snickered at an unspoken joke from their past. "Cassandra, your helmet wouldn't fit there."  
  
"Watch me."  
  
Yes, Ameridan needed to know more about these people. The mismatched team seemed so unlikely, but it reminded him of his own circle of friends and comrades. Telana and Drakon were probably having a field day with this at his expense. What had he gotten himself into?  
  
"Are you ready?" When they nodded and prepared themselves for the fight, he dropped the last barrier that held Hakkon at bay. The dragon fell to the floor and screeched at them. It whipped around and barreled its way out of the ruins.  
  
"Damn, this is gonna be great later tonight."  
  
"Ew." Myrna wrinkled her nose—had Ameridan missed something?—and gestured for them to follow. "Do we need to take it slow, Inquisitor?"  
  
"Ameridan is fine, child. And hurry ahead of me. I will be slow moving for a few minutes yet, but I will catch up."  
  
With a nod, the four rushed for the exit to follow the god.


	3. A Child He Never Had; Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ameridan being a dad again, Tinfoil Hats for the Evanuris are needed, and Solas is really not a good dude.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bolded is in their native tongue.  
> Not beta'd and mostly word vomit so if there's an inconsistency...oops???? Just point it out to me so I can fix it.  
> As I requested in the previous chapter, lemme know if I goofed up the spelling or anything. I cut a ton of crap from the conversation between Ameridan and Myrna.  
> And as much as I love redeemable Solas, he isn't a thing here. Solas is cruel and uncaring about the people he'll hurt in trying to restore the previous world the elves possessed before the humans came around and he fucked it up.

Ameridan found himself mesmerized by the sight that greeted him when he arrived at the unnatural, icy arena that Hakkon had created for himself. It rose from the water like an open palace, a nest for death at the hands of the dragonlings that swarmed from the crevices embedded in the towering walls of ice. They advanced on the four in the center, who quickly took them out while dodging the icy breath of Hakkon, who charged from the other side of them.  
  
The four warriors moved fluidly, as a unit that was so in tune with one another that they could have been mistaken for one entity when they were near enough to one another. It was impressive to watch as they danced around one another gracefully and anticipating each other's moves. Even the kid managed to keep up. They must practice fighting together frequently if they could manage this with such ease.

As he had predicted, Myrna did prefer to rely on her own skillful hands rather than channeling it through the staff; she primarily used the weapon to balance herself as she ducked beneath a tail swipe and then lept to avoid a spike of ice. She used the blade on the end to stab at the dragon's foot before using the top of the staff to shove herself away from the impending stomp aimed for her small body. Gods, she was going to get herself killed, Ameridan silently fretted.  
  
Magic wise, Ameridan saw a stream of fireballs blast out of her staff before she was back to using her free hand to cast spells and keep herself balanced on the thick ice. Her use of the intricately carved wood worked similarly to ancient elvhen foci, he decided. She didn't rely on it, but when she needed a little more oomph, the kid would lash out with it.  
  
Cole and The Iron Bull worked in tandem, Bull throwing the man or Cole using the Qunari's back as a ramp to launch himself into the air. Cole knew when to duck beneath the other's ax, and Bull knew when to time his slashes between Cole's dance around the beast.  
  
The Seeker seemed more focused on distracting the dragon, baiting it until the incensed god would charge at her. Myrna would use her magic to yank the woman out of the way at the last minute, and then Cassandra was back at it from another angle.  
  
Ameridan finally noticed the gash on her side, however, and raised his own staff to aim it at the Seeker. Quickly, he drew what magic he had and fired a spell to stop the bleeding; he knew he didn't have enough in him to do more than that. It wouldn't solve the problem entirely, but it would hopefully hold her until the battle was over.  
  
The sudden sensation of her skin knitting back together, enough to slow the bleeding, startled the woman and she faltered in her steps, nearly losing her footing on the slick surface. It was enough for the dragon to have the advantage.  
  
"Cassandra!" Myrna couldn't get to the woman in time, not physically, but she clapped her hands together with a grunt before parting them forcefully. A wall of fire rose between the Seeker and the dragon to slow it down, which gave her enough time to retreat. Bull yanked her to her feet and dragging her out of the way of the dragon that was charging her again.  
  
In the end, the four of them came out on top, though they looked a little worse for wear. There was a tear in Cole's leathers over his shoulder and chest, and a dent in his hat; Bull was subtly cradling his arm to hide the injury from the other three. Cassandra still had the wound on her side that needed further attention, and Myrna had several bruises forming on her arms and face, along with a rip in her leggings, but the pair would survive.  
  
Ameridan couldn't help it, he rushed to the young elf's side and frantically started checking her for any significant abrasions and broken bones. Myrna tensed up when his hands touched her, but she slowly relaxed when she realized what he was doing.  
  
"Sir, I'm okay. Tired, a little sore, but I'm fine." Ameridan didn't seem convinced, but he did back away from her in a rush. He heard the Qunari snicker behind him and felt red tinge his ears. Okay, fatherly instincts were horrible and embarrassing. Why did he and Telana want kids again?  
  
"Sorry. I didn't...Right. You three." Ameridan whirled around to face the others and, with Myrna's help, healed what they could with what energy they had left.  
  
"I think I'll take a long nap too. Could use it," the girl mumbled, rubbing at her face tiredly and tucking a loose braid behind her ear.  
  
"You used too much tonight," Cole murmured chidingly as she fixed the wound on his shoulder. "I will be fine; you don't have to heal the rest."  
  
"I had to, though, didn't I?" Myrna huffed in annoyance and swatted his good shoulder. "I have enough for this."  
  
"Not _that_  much." Cole patted her head lightly, awkwardly. "I'll survive. Promise."  
  
Ameridan smiled at the friendly display between them and shook his head. His eyes met Bull's, the man who he was currently treating, and the two of them grinned.  
  
"Thanks." Ameridan nodded and stepped away from the Qunari. "Alright, boss. Camp?"  
  
"Gods, yes."  
  
\--  
  
Ameridan finally woke two days later to find a worried Inquisitor at his bedside, eyes wide but showing her relief upon seeing him regaining consciousness.  
  
"You worried us, sir." Her voice was soft, as if afraid to startle him with her presence though she knew he was already aware of her. She didn't wear fear very well, he quickly decided.  
  
Still, Ameridan was acutely aware of the fact that Telana and Drakon were still laughing at his expense. "'Sir' makes me feel old, please, don't. For the sake of my dignity, despite it being in tatters, don't call me 'old'."  
  
The girl snorted and shook her head. "You're well over eight hundred years old. Get used to it _old man_."  
  
Cheeky little shit.  
  
"Ugh. Telana and Drakon are taking pleasure in my misery, I'm sure of it," he grumbled, hand covering his face. Ameridan finally dropped the hand and turned his eyes back to Myrna. She was still smirking. Great. A child was enjoying it too, apparently. The new age must be filled with a young, sadistic generation of brats.  
  
She wasn't a brat, and he wasn't outwardly pouting at the fact that she called him "old". He did have _some_  pride left, albeit not much.  
  
"Two days? Figured it'd be more."  
  
"I'm glad it's not more than that. What if you'd starved or worse? You were more still than an Orlesian statue." The worry and fear were back.   
  
"Calm, child. I am glad of it too, though I doubt I would have starved to death in my sleep." His smile was faint when he teased, "I have a feeling you would have forcibly roused me from my dreams to shove food down my throat before that happened."  
  
"I'm not that cruel...or is it merciful?" Her thoughtful expression melted back into a soft smile. "Still, I'm glad you're okay... _sir_."

Brat. Telana would love her and Drakon would tell Ameridan that it was karma or something, though Ameridan wouldn't know what the hell he'd done for fate to be so cruel. Maybe that was a bit too dramatic, though he always had struggled to act his age when kids and teenagers were around. He became unguarded and playful, catered to their youthful imaginings and naivety.  
  
He changed the subject.  
  
Gesturing to the unfinished Vallaslin, he asked, "Dirthamen? Why him? Most choose one of the less...perceived darker gods than him or his brother."  
  
Myrna shrugged. "I'm too curious for my own good, or so our Keeper says. Anytime we were close to a town, and I could spare the coin, I would sneak away from the clan to buy or trade books. That's one benefit from being Inquisitor. All the books I could ever ask for or hope to read." Her expression was wistful for only a moment before she remembered herself—Ameridan tried not to laugh. "It seemed like the best option for me. I like to learn, and I like to experiment and try new things and explore. There's so much out there I don't know about, and I want to try and change that while I'm still alive to do it. And if I get to share it with people I care about, all the better."  
  
"A wise and worthy goal for someone so young," he complimented. "Will you complete the Vallaslin when this is over?"  
  
"Yes. I think my pain tolerance has grown enough that I won't make any noise this time." She seemed sheepish and picked at her shirt for a moment. "Gods, I was so embarrassed. Right in front of Taynren too, which made it worse."  
  
"There is no shame in needing more time before you take your mark, youngling. Is Taynren is someone you were interested in?" Young love. Maker help him, this was terrible, but he appreciated her opening up about it. Did her friends know?  
  
"A bit," she mumbled. "He was so damn cute, and his eyes. Maker's breath, those eyes."  
  
Ugh. Never mind. Teenagers pining wasn't for him.  
  
"Do you plan to bond with him when you return to your clan?"  
  
Her dreamy, half-smile faded in an instant, nearly giving Ameridan whiplash. "No. There was an accident. Clans are used to humans attacking them, and the Inquisition, no, _I_ , sent a group of our soldiers to deliver a message from me and to try and ally with them, to show them that they had the strength to keep me safe through all of this. They didn't know and attacked first. Most of the clan died when the soldiers were forced to defend themselves. I should have listened to Leliana and sent two or three people instead to meet with them. I was just scared of losing soldiers while they made their way there, or that the clan may need help with the locals, and didn't think about how the clan would see it. It's my fault. Those left were separated, driven to join other clans as there weren't enough left of them to rebuild the Lavellan clan."  
  
"I'm sorry," Ameridan said after a moment of silence. He wasn't sure how to comfort a teenager that blamed themselves for their people's deaths. "Regardless of what you believe, I want you to understand that it's not your fault. You couldn't have predicted how it would play out."  
  
"I should have!" she snapped. "I should have...I know that I would have done the same had I been there but...I forgot. I forgot them."  
  
"You tried to meet a different need of theirs. You sent your soldiers in the hope that they would provide your people with support and protection, to reassure them of the outcome of the situation you were in." Ameridan reached out and took the girl's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "You meant well, and you wanted to protect them, Myrna. It's...not okay, but it will be. Have you tried contacting any of those left since? I doubt they blame you if that's another concern of yours."  
  
"I sent messengers with letters, hoping to make amends by starting with an apology. Those who had moved to other clans accepted the apology, but their letters were...short. I haven't tried since."  
  
"Because you think they don't want to hear from you?"  
  
"Would you, if I killed everyone you knew?"  
  
"No, I supposed not," he replied with a sigh. "However, I would when I had time enough to mourn those lost and heal from the trauma."  
  
"Yeah, well, you've taken on a god by yourself and froze it in time for almost an eon. You're not...the norm."  
  
"I'm not, no, but I am still just a man. I am capable of mistakes. I'm not infallible."  
  
"Could have fooled me."  
  
Ameridan felt his lips twitching towards a small, sad smile, and took in the way the girl held herself at that moment. Her dark skin seemed pale, and she had circles under her eyes from a lack of sleep. She was hunched over, trying to appear smaller, as if she might disappear if she curled up enough.  
  
"I believe you were concerned for my starvation," he started quietly after a few minutes of silence. His stomach growled to punctuate his attempt at changing the subject.  
  
Myrna nodded and darted out of the tiny hut he was sleeping in, provided by the Avvar. They'd supplied the inquisition with several of them to stay in while they recuperated to keep them safe. None of them argued it, as it gave them better beds than hard mats on the floor. It was an improvement.  
  
He finally sat up and stretched, groaning softly as his back popped and his shoulders ached from the strain. Maker, he _was_  getting old. An eon of being half-alive had not done his muscles any favors. It was a miracle that his limbs hadn't atrophied in that time. Ameridan slowly stood and made for the basin across the room. He only washed his hands and face for now; he would wait until Myrna left later to clean the rest of him.  
  
She came back a few minutes later with a tray with an assortment of cheeses and meats and bread. Just as hard and rich as the people who made it; nothing has changed, he thought in amusement.  
  
He took a seat at a table in the corner, and Myrna took the one across from him after she set the tray down.  
  
Ameridan said a quick, silent prayer, and then began to eat. After a few bites, once he realized how ravenous he was, he paused to ask her one of many questions he had for the girl.  
  
"How did you become an inquisitor at such a young age?"  
  
Myrna sighed and swiped at a corner of the bread, picking at it and nibbling on the tiny chunks she made. Ameridan could see her mind working to find the words, to figure out where to start.  
  
"I snuck away from the clan to see what was going on at the conclave. There's a war between mages and Templars—was a war, I guess. They were meeting at the conclave, neutral ground, for peace talks. Mages are not treated kindly by the rest of Thedas, except in Tevinter, where mages are the ruling class, but it's...not as nice as it may seem. Mages are seen as less than cattle, in some of the circles. Not every circle is horrible, not all Templars are cruel to their charges, but on the whole, most are mistreated. They can't marry, can't have children, can't have titles or land, and are confined to a single place for the rest of their lives. People are paranoid that mages will become abominations. Those that can't pass the Harrowing are made Tranquil or killed."  
  
She paused when Ameridan growled, jaw clenched in his anger and frustration. Society should have grown, should have improved; instead, they went backward.  
  
"So, I went to the conclave to see what happened, because it would affect the clans too since we're always worried that Templars will take us away too. We're...they look the other way, sometimes, so long as we limit how many there are of us per clan." Myrna paused as she took another bite of the bread she'd played with. "Anyway, I snuck in and heard someone crying for help. I-I know I'm still young, but I had to do something! So I...I ran down the hall to find who was in trouble and found the Divine being restrained by magic. The Wardens and a blighted Magister from Tevinter from ages ago were using her as a sacrifice. The Magister, Corypheus, had an orb. Solas said it was an elvhen focus—foci?—of some kind. I can't remember the details. Well, Justinia, the Divine, managed to move in her restraints enough to knock the orb out of his hands. I caught it, and the conclave and part of the mountain exploded. There was a massive hole in the fade, and the foci was meant to open the fade, or close it. Solas said it's like a key." She held up her hand to show him the mark. "They need me because I'm the only one who can close them and keep demons from coming through. This happened when I touched the orb, and it threw me into the fade."  
  
From there, she told him the rest. What happened after she woke up, how they closed the breach and conscripted the Templars as probation of sorts for the role they played in the aftermath. After questioning her on the way she fought, Myrna moved on to the attack on Haven, about the arch-demon that was controlled by Corypheus and how she nearly died because of him, and then how she almost died of hypothermia after escaping the avalanche.  
  
"Getting to Skyhold was...a relief and another thing to be terrified of. We were somewhere safer than Haven, but now I had to keep it that way. I have the advisors and my friends and the soldiers, obviously, but it doesn't make it any less stressful." She tugged at a braid that had slipped out of the loose bun at the back of her neck, fingering it with a tired expression. She was too young to make a face that old and exhausted from responsibility. "Solas showed me how to get there, but then wouldn't take credit for it. I don't like people thinking it was all me. I don't like the attention I didn't ask for or earn."  
  
Ameridan had found the stress of leadership difficult, and he was a grown man, well versed in the ways of the world and with more wisdom in how to lead. The girl had almost nothing.  
  
Then there was Adamant and going back into the Fade for the second time in her life, followed by the Winter Palace in Halamshiral. Ameridan was not pleased with the history lesson on what happened to the once elven region.  
  
"I had to wear this stuffy, red uniform. Would have much rather worn something ceremonial from elven traditions. That'd make a statement." Her grin was sharp, almost smug as Ameridan watched her imagine how insulted the Orlesians would have been at seeing an elf, in elf-y clothes.  
  
"And now we're here, trying to figure out what was causing so many problems in the Basin. We thought Corypheus might have been up to something but, well, that wasn't the case." Hakkon was most definitely not a blighted magister with an arch-demon for a pet.  
  
When Myrna finished telling Ameridan about the state of Thedas, she finally asked, "What was it like when you were...uh." She didn't know how to voice the question. "Back then?"  
  
Ameridan felt his lips twitch towards a smile and eventually leaned back with a thoughtful expression. He had the chance to tell a story, and now he didn't know which to tell. Perhaps the story of how he met Drakon?  
  
"So, I was walking through the Dales..."  
  
An hour later and Ameridan was half carrying the almost-asleep girl to the house the Avvar set aside for her to put her on her cot to sleep. Who knew teenagers could still fall asleep to stories? Or were his that boring?  
  
A guest was waiting for him when he went back to his room, sitting in the chair Myrna had previously occupied and idly turning an amulet of Ameridan's this way and that. The elf's hold was gentle, as if he feared it would break if he held on too tightly, or maybe he sensed the worth of the piece of jewelry to the owner. The center of it was a finely shaped piece of ironbark in the form of an orb. Tiny markings in a language long forgotten by many were inscribed in it, and it thrummed with ancient magic. Ameridan hardly took one look at the man's face before he sighed deeply.  
  
" **Fen'Harel, nice of you to drop by.** " Ameridan slowly retook his seat, this time facing a myth rather than the current leader of the inquisition. " **I never would have thought to see you in the thick of things like this. I presume you're the one Myrna mentioned, Solas?** "  
  
Fen'Harel didn't look away from the amulet he'd picked up to inspect. He let his magic wrap around it, curling this way and that to find the source of its power, to discover what kind of power it held, its purpose. It was some time before he dropped the charm, only hanging onto the chain, and let it swing like a pendulum.  
  
Finally, his eyes met Ameridan's, expression unreadable. " **Dirthamen, it is a pleasure to see you again. Curious, however, that I would find you down here rather than dead in a ditch somewhere.** "  
  
Ameridan smirked and fingered the handle on his tankard. " **You _would_  like that, wouldn't you? A bit too much, I'm afraid.**"  
  
There was a tense moment between them, neither dropping their gaze. Solas broke it when he held out Ameridan's amulet.  
  
" **You're meddling in the affairs of mortals again** ," he chided.  
  
" **What's the human phrase? The pot calling the kettle black? I am trying to move forward, Fen'Harel, not stuck on the past. We can't change it, only hope to improve what we have to work with. Guide them, not drag them kicking and screaming, as you're wont to do.** " Ameridan saw the faintest movement of Solas clenching his jaw tightly. He'd irritated him, good. That's what cousins are for, he thought with wry amusement.  
  
" **Why are you still here, Dirthamen? You are weak enough that you should have faded away moments after coming out of stasis. How are you still hanging on, recovering? Are you really that stubborn?** " Solas asked, trying to goad Ameridan into a reaction. One of the milder of the Evanuris, Dirthamen was still capable of lashing out in anger and frustration, just as everyone else was. As he'd told Myrna earlier, he wasn't perfect.  
  
" **One of the things I'm known for is my drive to keep families together, to inspire their loyalty to one another, that family is not made by blood, but by a bond.** "  
  
" **Do not dance around your answer** ," Solas ordered with a deep scowl. " **I do not have the patience for it, nor do we have the time.** "  
  
Ameridan took a sip of what was left of his drink, thumb rubbing over the surface of the amulet. His silence stretched on, irritating the younger Evanuris before him. Thousands of years hadn't tempered that temper of his. He answered before Solas' breaking point. " **The girl. She is why I chose to remain in this world for the time being.** "  
  
" **You are barely holding on, for a _child_?**" Solas' face scrunched in distaste and his voice was sharp, tart. The man was jaded, had yet to heal from being spurned by the pantheon _and_  the Forgotten Ones. Time was supposed to heal all wounds, and yet, the time hadn't made a dent in his bitter armor.  
  
" **Yes.** " Keep it simple; annoy the hell out of the man.  
  
" **Why, Dirthamen? It is foolish, and I thought you wiser than that.** " He was trying to pick at Ameridan's carefully constructed self-control. It wouldn't work, not this way.  
  
" **I am wise enough to know when I am needed. There is a child, leading a revolution and an army against those who seek to destroy this world. She needs someone to protect her from threats she and her companions do not know of. Or is _that_  why you do not want me here? You see it as a threat to whatever nefarious plan you've cooked up this time.**"  
  
" **Do you really think you are in any position to stop me?** " Solas challenged with a scoff. " **You could hardly light a candle at the moment, let alone put an end to my goals. What is to stop me from removing you from her influence?** "  
  
Ameridan leaned forward, voice as soft and calm as the waters of the Sulfur Lakes that lay south of Orlais on a clear, windless night. " **The fact that, even if I pose a threat to your schemes, you need me here to keep her safe for now. I know she plays a role in whatever you have planned, or you would not have put yourself at the center of it all, would not have started this mess to begin with. Yes, it gives me enough time to find a way to put an end to your games, but it also gives you time to continue using her influence and resources to your advantage. Do not think I do not know that the foci was yours, Fen'Harel. She told me that it was the source of her mark, that you were the one to inform her of its origin and purpose.** "  
  
Solas sported a smirk now, a smug and twisted thing that clearly showed the secrets he held, whether he saw them as evil or not like the rest of the world. " **You have no idea what I am doing, however. You cannot stop what you do not see.** "  
  
" **I do not have to be the one to stop it. The girl is more intelligent and perceptive than you give her credit for. You always did underestimate those who would be the biggest threat to whatever ghost you hallucinated that day or another. She will figure it out, and she will not need my help to do so. You have left many clues. Another clue or two, another slip up, and she will put the pieces of the puzzle together. You are foolish, and not as adept at keeping a secret as you believe. What will you do when she knows who you are and what you are up to?** "  
  
" **I'll remove her from the equation** ," he said with a shrug.  
  
It turned Ameridan's stomach. The man before him was willing to kill a mere child for the sake of whatever half cooked plan he had in the works? Ameridan doubted that even the Forgotten Ones would be that cruel. It was a wonder Solas wasn't one of them.  
  
" **You would kill a child? Have you not been the cause of enough death? Do you know how many children walk the halls of my brother's domain, needing guidance to peace because of an evil they did not understand, will never understand. Their souls do not rest easy because they do not know who is at fault for putting them there, or why.** " Ameridan huffed, eyes focusing on the amulet again with a dark scowl. " **Of anyone in the pantheon, or the Forgotten Ones, the one most deserving of being thrown into the void is the prideful monster who sits before me. Skyhold? Where you once stood and cast those who could have helped fight the Quicklings into an eternal hell, catered to their own fears? My brother and I are lucky that we have managed to escape those prisons, that we are able to do the duties we swore we'd uphold from the very beginning. You have forgotten your purpose, the oath you took.** "  
  
There was another moment of tense silence, and then Ameridan's expression softened into something sad, pleading. " **Cease this madness, Fen'Harel. Whatever it is, it's not worth the anguish it will cause in the long run.** "  
  
" **You do not long for the glory that was once our home? The place of our people where the rest of the world could not touch us? That, that is what I am fighting for. I fight to return to us what is ours. How can you not want the same?** " In a rare show of loss of control, Solas slammed a fist down onto the table, rattling the dishes still resting there from the small meal Ameridan had shared with Myrna. He immediately calmed himself with a few breaths, and eyes clenched shut.  
  
" **I long for what once was, Fen'Harel, but I am realistic, optimistic at times, yes, but I recognize when to let things be, and when to fight for change. And how to fight for that change. This—rewrite of history, this attempt to bring back the old ways, it will not be the same. It will not give the elves the satisfaction you hope for. Hope for better for our people, work to make their lives better and fight for them, but do not burn down the world to do it. It will only lead to ruin and pain, and there will be no one left to appreciate the work you put into remaking what was perfectly made by the Maker to begin with.** "  
  
Rather than answering, Solas lurched to his feet and stormed out of the hut, not looking back at his cousin. It hurt to watch him go, but Ameridan knew he could do nothing to change Solas' mind, not right now; provoking him further would lead to Solas following through on the threat to eliminate Ameridan. He couldn't protect the Inquisitor or their people—or anyone, for that matter—if he were dead, or worse.  
  
"Mother, I wish you were here," he murmured. Maker, it'd be easier with her here to counsel him. He may be the Evanuris that stood for knowledge and wisdom, but only the wise knew when to seek wisdom from others. He needed it desperately right now. And his dear Telana was dead, having passed through his brother's halls just as those that suffered from Solas' decisions have. His brother wouldn't allow him to speak with her either. The dead were to remain that way, and even the Evanuris were not above that. Especially them; it was an abuse of power, one Ameridan knew not to test.  
  
If only his cousin felt the same.  
  
\--  
  
The child inquisitor held Ameridan's amulet with the delicacy of someone holding a piece of finely sculpted glass. Her touch was light but curious, and her keen eyes focused on the markings that decorated the surface of the orb suspended in the center of the medallion-like piece. Gently, she gave it a spin and watched in fascination as the inscription blurred together. If she unfocused her eyes, she could almost discern the individual letters.  
  
"This is like the foci Solas told me about. Where did you get it?" she asked quietly, handing it back to him.  
  
Ameridan retrieved it with a soft intake a breath. Despite his own strength, having the amulet, the foci, felt like a breath of fresh air after being locked in a dungeon or cellar for hours or weeks. It was light, a floating and freeing experience until the magic of his that it possessed settled within him.  
  
"I am nearly a thousand years old now. It was easier to find such things in my time, or own if they were passed down in your family, as mine was. The Imperium had yet to take everything of ours, though they were certainly trying. I am saddened to see that they succeeded." He paused, the pad of his thumb rubbing over his chest where the foci rested above his heart. "Am I to assume that Solas has not shown you how the elvhen used them?"  
  
"Where the hell would he find one if they're all missing or broken?" she asked with a shrug, using her question as an answer.  
  
"Fair enough," he mumbled, smiling wryly. After a moment of hesitation, he pulled the amulet back out and motioned for Myrna to cup her hands so he could rest it above the flat of her palms. "I want you to close your eyes and try to feel for the magic it holds."  
  
"How do I...oh. Right." He saw her shoulders hitch in embarrassment, though she quickly forced herself to relax and do as told.  
  
Ameridan waited, knowing what to look for when she found it. It took a minute, but the girl suddenly gasped in both shock and delight. He smiled and gently shifted the girl closer to him. "Now very, _very_  slowly, guide your own magic to it. Touch it, just a moment of contact, so it doesn't overwhelm you."  
  
Her brows furrowed as she struggled to follow his instructions. Had her Keeper not shown her this? Maker, what else was lost to time?  
  
He slipped his hands beneath hers and reached out instinctively with his own magic, making contact with hers and lightly tugging it in the direction of the foci. The girl tensed, not used to someone's magic mixing with her own. It caused her to lose focus, and she quickly lost sight of the foci's magic.  
  
"Dammit!" Myrna lowered her hands and avoided Ameridan's eyes. "Sorry. I didn't mean to just..."  
  
"It's okay, youngling. This is something your Keeper should have taught you ages ago. Part of using your magic effectively is knowing how to feel it. You can wield a hammer and beat at a nail all day, but if you don't know the right amount of force needed, how to aim for the head of the nail, it can take longer to make the mark." He lowered his own hand and stared at her thoughtfully. "When your friends were teaching you how to fight more effectively, did they show you how to sense and predict your enemy's movements with your eyes closed or blindfolded?"  
  
"You mean the week I spent on my arse more than on my feet? Yeah, they did." By her tone, Ameridan assumed that doing it blindfolded did not have the desired effect. She could predict movements in a fight, with her eyes open and on her enemy, but if something were to happen... Ameridan didn't want to think about it.  
  
"Hm." He tapped at his chin a second, watching the girl. What would be the best way to teach her? Hands-on worked well; it kept the energetic girl focused on the task. Reading also did much for her, as Ameridan had seen Myrna devour books. Seeing others do it, giving her an example, led to a thoughtful expression crossing her features as she analyzed their movements and words, breaking them down a piece at a time to understand them.  
  
"Tonight, I'll see you in the fade, and we can try there. You need to have more sensory control over your magic before you can use one of these without blowing a hole into a mountain." Myrna paled at the thought that she could have taken out half of Skyhold if she had screwed it up.  
  
She scowled at him. "You mean to tell me I could have killed someone just then?"  
  
Ameridan snorted, "No. We could have contained it, probably, but everyone should have been fine. Well, maybe we would be worse for wear but..." He shrugged, acting as though it wasn't of concern to him, which earned him another glare.  
  
"You're going to be the death of me," she groused. "Fine, I'll see you then. Hopefully. I'm not sure how we'll meet though. Never done that."  
  
"You haven't done that either?" Ameridan groaned and rubbed at his face. "Maker, the ground we have to cover. How long do you have because this may take years?"  
  
"A month, maybe." He gave her a look. "Probably." The look didn't go away, and Myrna threw up her hands. "How the hell should I know? I can't predict the future."  
  
He shook his head and tucked the amulet back under his clothes before standing. "Right. I am leaving before this conversation gives me grey hair."  
  
"You already have grey hair, old man!" she called after him with a laugh.  
  
"And whose bloody fault is that, brat?" Ameridan shouted back, not bothering to hide his grin. "Gods, Telana, this kid will be the death of me. Yes, yes, I know; I had it coming but goodness gracious, this is both exhilarating and exhausting."  
  
"Talking to yourself again, time traveler?" Ameridan slowed his trek across the ramparts and saw Varric leaning against the wall by the stairway. "That's a sign of madness."  
  
"Then what is your excuse, dwarf?"  
  
Varric laughed and shifted his gaze back to the Inquisitor. "She's a good kid."  
  
"She is...doing her best to be, yes. She deserved to retain her innocence and naivety for a little while longer, however." Ameridan leaned on the wall beside Varric. It almost felt like being with his friend Orinna again. Their light banter to hide the grimness of their situation mirrored that of the tentative friendship he'd formed with Varric. Ameridan attributed that to the Inquisitor just having that effect on people. He and a storytelling dwarf are growing close over a silent urge to be parents to a kid who didn't have any available.  
  
"Everyone here deserved to hold onto their childhood a little while longer," Varric added. "Unfortunately, the world isn't kind to the innocent."  
  
"And to the guilty?" Ameridan asked.  
  
"Fate is too lenient. Or lazy. Or something like that. Point is, life sucks, and people like that kid deserve better."  
  
"I agree." They stood in silence for a moment, and then Varric asked him another question.  
  
"What were you teaching her, if you don't mind my asking?"  
  
"I was initially going to show her how to use foci, a tool of our people from long ago. However, she lacks in part of her education. Her Keeper skipped out on vital methods for using magic. I do not know if it is because they did not have enough time to, did not care to, or if it is simply that they did not know the techniques any longer. So much has been lost to history, and it seems...to be getting worse. There is so much to teach her and others to show them what they are missing, and not enough time to do it."  
  
"So write it down," Varric suggested with a shrug. "Information isn't just spread orally anymore. Write it down, or dictate it to someone and have them write it for you."  
  
"Varric?"  
  
"Yes...?"  
  
"How do you feel about writing a textbook?"  
  
"Maker, hell no."  
  
The pair laughed and eventually Ameridan bid Varric a good evening before departing for his quarters. He was in for a long night, or many long nights; however long it took to teach the young elf, he knew. Damn, he was getting too old for this. May as well take her in as an apprentice if they keep this up.  
  
Not such a bad idea, after this is all over and if they both survive it.  
  
No, positive thoughts, Ameridan.


	4. Snowdrops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is based on a prompt on the tomarrywritingprompts blog on Tumblr. Can be found [here](https://tomarrywritingprompts.tumblr.com/post/185561217772/prompt-valentines-day-tom-is-super-popular-so-he)  
> Basically: "Prompt: Valentines day. Tom is super popular so he always gets loads of valentines gifts from the other students, but he finds most of the gifts annoying, and spends heaps of time complaining about it to his best friend Harry. Not his style, too cheesy, too pink, too obnoxious. Not to mention the time he found love potion in his chocolates. But this year, there is a lovely gift, something perfect, with an anonymous note. Could it be from Harry? Tom hopes it was from Harry."  
> Look, I saw the potential for fluff and angst and I ran with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd Tomarry, mutual pining because come on, best kind, you know? Same age au, Harry's parents are still dead but I don't explain why or how, Tom didn't do it.

"What does Riddle even like?"

Harry thought about it, eyes cast downward to his soup and the swirling contents within. What does Riddle like? What would he like as a Valentine gift? Harry knew what  _not_ to give him.

He likes sweets, but not chocolate or candy hearts. Merlin, never the candy hearts. The cards were always generic, nothing genuine written in them. Stuffed animals? For Riddle? Hell no. Anything charmed? Not that he'd seen yet, though if it were clever spellwork, maybe he'd at least be a bit mildly impressed.

He looked back at Ron and shrugged. "I think flowers, but not roses or carnations. He likes wildflowers; he told me once. He thinks they're beautiful in how no one has changed them to be something they were never meant to be. They're not mass produced or anything."

* * *

 

Tom groaned when he collapsed onto his bed in their dorm. "Harry, please kill me."

Harry didn't look up from his book, where he was underlining things he remembered Hermione mentioning were important. "I might if you pay me back with something."

"Like what?" Tom raised his head from the bed and, surrounded as he was by mountains of gifts, Harry had the amusing image of Tom being wrapped in a bow to match the gifts around him. Tom thought he was a gift to humanity anyway; it'd suit him.

"I don't know. Give me time to think on it. I'll only get one chance to redeem the favor before I put you out of your misery." Harry shot him a grin, "Oh, what a lovely day that will be."

"How would you do it, anyway? Would it be a spell? A knife? A poisoned kiss?" The salacious wink that followed had Harry snorting with laughter.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"You're the superior option over any other idiot in this school."

"Ouch. Thanks, Tom."

"Anytime."

Harry pointed at the pile with the end of his quill. "What's the damage this time?"

Tom sat up and picked them up one-by-one. "Chocolates, chocolates, oh Merlin have mercy there are candy hearts! My favorite. Can throw those in the air one at a time and fire spells at them. Skeet, I think the muggles call it? With guns and the clay disk?" When Harry nodded, Tom continued. "A charmed bear that dances, more chocolate, more. Fucking. Chocolate. Oh! Here's something new: a ring. One from Zonko's, it looks like. Charmed for sending messages between you and your lover."

Harry watched as Tom tossed everything onto a pile at his feet with envy and disappointment. "Why don't you save yourself the trouble every year and just announce that you hate the holiday or something, so people will stop sending you things?"

"Because then I don't get to use their gifts as kindling for the fire."

"You're impossible."

Tom ignored the jab and continued flipping through the gifts until he came to a small box. He opened it cautiously and found a few poppies, perfectly preserved in resin. There wasn't a flat side, so it wasn't meant to be a paperweight or anything. Just an orb with poppies in it. He actually liked this one, simple as it was.

He glanced up at Harry, who was back to doing his homework, although now he had one of Tom's boxes of chocolate beside him to snack on while he worked. No one else would think to give him something like this. Sure, he'd received more roses than he could count, but he had yet to see wildflowers of any kind.

Only Harry knew he had a secret love for them.

"Do you know who gave me these? There's not a name on the box." Tom carefully passed the orb to Harry, who stared down at it with a frown.

Someone must have made a lucky guess, though Harry would have picked a flower other than poppies. Maybe snowdrops?

Tom watched Harry's reaction. Was it wrong to hope it was him? He remembered the conversation clearly. _The pitch hadn't been tended to yet, it was their first year, and wildflowers were sprouting over the field. Harry finished his private practice and then joined Tom on the ground to take a break. Tom meant to study, but watching his friend fly around with the biggest grin on his face, while also looking so damn determined to up his speed was incredibly distracting._

_Harry sort of fell onto his back, panting and grinning like a madman and Tom found that he couldn't look away from him. The wildflowers that were crushed beneath him and framed the rest of him was almost perfect. Enough so that he nearly leaned over to kiss him, even if he was a sweaty mess and Tom found that to be disgusting...but it was Harry, so he supposed he could make an exception._

_He didn't like flowers until that day, and only wildflowers. They were as untamable as Harry's ridiculous hair and almost as bright and lively as his smile, determined to beat the odds of whatever weather they faced, whatever life threw at Harry._  
  
_Tom plucked one beside his head and playfully threw it at Harry. "I wish they kept these on the field. Would improve the place a bit."_

But Harry passed the orb back to him with a small smile. "Lucky guess, I suppose. Who's it from again?"

Tom looked back at the box with no name or writing and pulled his wand out. He murmured a few spells, and a face appeared in green smoke. "Lavender. Ugh, kill me."

Harry snickered but hid his amusement quickly behind his book. "Sounds like her."

"Considering she tried to dose me with a love potion last year..."

"Is there a spell on this one too?"

"Not that I could see."

"She must have learned her lesson. I wondered where she figured out that you were fond of wildflowers."

Tom paused and looked at Harry with a frown. "Did you tell anyone?"

"I told Ron when he asked me what gift you probably wouldn't turn down, but I didn't think anyone else was listening." But maybe she had heard him.

Harry's mind drifted to the gift he'd made Tom in their first year.

_Tom had been so annoyed with every gift so far, that Harry never pulled it out to give him, so it sat in his nightstand, unopened for years. He would sneak it in there when they came back after the summer holidays but hid it in his trunk so Dudley wouldn't find it._

_He'd spent all year working on it when Tom mumbled that he actually liked the wildflowers here. "It'd actually be an improvement to this barbaric sport." It was a lie. Tom was just as enchanted as everyone else in the stands, even if he tried and failed to hide it. "I'm only here for you, you git. It's dull otherwise." Harry didn't believe him but never pointed it out._

_He'd scoured the library and asked professor Flitwick about what kind of spells would achieve the desired effect, asked if the professor could help him with the wand work so he could do it on his own. Flitwick asked him why he was so invested in intricate charms that he would have to send Harry to McGonagall and Snape to complete the rest of the project. Harry only said that it was for a friend who really liked wildflowers and had a horrible life outside of school; he wanted them to have something nice to remind them of school and to look forward to coming back._

_"You're a sweet boy, Potter. Your friends are lucky to have you and your compassionate nature." Harry had blushed and thanked him, and Flitwick didn't ask him any more questions about the intended recipient._

_McGonagall was surprisingly easy to convince and was a secret romantic. She knew right away that the person wasn't just a friend to Harry, but didn't press him for details. Besides, a student was asking for extracurricular tutoring, even if it wasn't as educational as what they learned in class. Harry seemed more dedicated to side projects than his classwork. After a while, she determined that the boy had what muggles called ADHD. He just needed a challenge outside of required work to keep him interested and more focused in class. It gave him a goal to work towards, and helped his studies when she explained how the magic worked, not just that "it's just how things are." He was genuinely interested in the mechanics of it._

_His grades improved dramatically after that._

_Snape was harder to convince, and Harry begged Draco to help him convince his godfather to help, even if it meant Draco was the one to learn the material and teach it to Harry outside of class. It also meant he owed Draco a favor in the future, but Harry knew it'd be worth it if it made Tom happy. Unless Draco wanted him to kill someone when he cashed in on that favor. He knew Draco wouldn't, though. He actually asked for Harry's help in asking Hermione out for the Yule Ball in their fourth year. He, Hermione, and Ron were all together now, much to everyone's relief—though he saw Barty eyeing Hermione wistfully, and Harry wondered how much longer the Power Trio would remain that way._

_Snape quickly figured out that it wasn't Draco who wanted the information, but someone else who was scared to ask. And while Draco was a better teacher than Harry expected, he didn't have the same knowledge as Snape. McGonagall had long since called for a staff meeting to talk about what she assumed about Potter's situation where it concerned his school work, along with pointing out other students she suspected faced a similar difference in learning the material. He was reluctant to partake in the training McGonagall set up with a doctor from St. Mungo's, but she convinced him saying that maybe at least one more student would show a greater interest in the study and be willing to work harder if they were taught differently._

_So when Draco finally admitted that it was Potter and that the boy was also seeking more work from McGonagall and Flitwick—Merlin, Snape hated to admit that the boy was more like his mother than he'd realized—he told Draco to bring Potter with him tomorrow after dinner. Potter looked uncomfortable, but after a minute of Snape watching him from behind his desk, and Draco giving him a look that rivaled Narcissa's, he quietly told Potter that he'd help him with his side studies, but he'd better begin to improve in Snape's class in compensation. He even asked McGonagall on what worked best for Potter._

_"I've found he loves the details. Surprisingly, he's able to focus if you explain how it works and not simply tell him that, this does that, memorize it and move on. Break it down to its base form, and you'll have his attention. He likes to work with his hands and tinker."_

_Snape gave it a shot because he didn't know how else to help the boy, but he hated to admit that McGonagall was right and that Potter's marks improved dramatically when he explained how the ingredients changed the composition of the potions, broke it down to what was seen as muggle chemistry, botany, and some physics. He even dragged in Sprout at one point to aid him in the botany aspect, though he was reluctant to admit that she would be perfect for that day's private lesson._

_She jumped at the chance to help another student who'd be almost as dedicated to her subject as the boy's friend Neville. Merlin, if every student were like that boy in her class, then she would be the happiest professor in the school. Neville liked the science aspect of herbology as much as Harry and frequently asked for book suggestions from the school library, and from the muggle world that he asked his grandmother to get him._

_He wasn't like his parents with their skill set, but his grandmother was just glad the boy had some kind of talent at all and found something he was good at. It was a relief to her._

_Sprout loved the boy._

_And Potter flourished in her class after the help too._

_Over the holidays, when Harry stayed behind, he finally started to put it together. The work was hard, but he applied what his professors taught him, along with what he'd learned on his own, and barely managed to finish it in time for Valentine's Day. He'd hoped to have it ready for Tom's birthday, but it took longer than he thought._

_But the gift sat in his nightstand and trunk for their first year, and their second, all the way to their now sixth year of study._

It looked to be one more year that he wouldn't give it to Tom. And looking at it now, he could probably do much better if he tried again. He was no Tom or Hermione or even Draco, but he was content with his fourth place in their year and of his abilities. He could certainly make the gift into something worth coveting, something worthy of his friend and years' long crush. He hated that word, but it fit the situation. Well, it did the first and second year. Now, Harry would tentatively admit to only himself that maybe it was love. It wasn't a passing fancy and had grown over the years. But dammit, he didn't even know if Tom felt that way about anyone. He always seemed so put off by the idea of romantic love.

Harry assumed it was because of Tom's parents and what happened with them; it explained why he was so furious with Lavender and one other student that Harry never knew the identity of that had tried to drug him. It also explained why Tom had a more violent reaction when it happened to Harry. That was a terrifying situation. Harry felt out of control and wondered if this was what it was like to be imperiused. But being under a spell and knowing what was happening, trapped in your own mind as your obsession took control of your body and mouth.

Pomphry was also as livid and was quick to treat Harry by the end of the day when Harry's friends figured out what happened. The student that had pulled that stunt ended up in the hospital wing too, and Tom was almost expelled for it, but Harry and their friends managed to convince the staff not to kick him out, that he was just scared and acted out of fear for his friend rather than out of malice. It was both of those that were behind Tom's actions, but they played it up on the worrying bit and downplayed the malicious revenge aspect of Tom's reaction.

As unaffectionate as Tom was, he embraced Harry and didn't let go of him for several minutes once Harry was in control of himself again and stable enough to interact with anyone. It had felt...nice to him. Harry had silently loved it, and that's when he realized he was more than just fond of his friend.

And he kept it to himself. He didn't tell anyone, though he knew Hermione and Draco have probably figured it out. That made him worry that Tom had too, but Tom had never shown any signs of knowing how Harry felt, and he'd certainly never gave any signs of returning Harry's feelings.

Harry doubted he'd ever give Tom the gift he'd worked for weeks on creating. Honestly, Harry could improve on it and probably sell it as a product through Zonko's or something. Maybe he'd do it through the twins, though. They'd appreciate it more and treat the product with more respect than Zonko's.  
  
And Tom would never know that it had been created with him in mind.

When Tom wasn't looking, Harry glanced at his nightstand with a sense of longing.

No, Tom probably wouldn't like it as much as Harry would wish for him to anyway. Especially as it was made by a first year who was putting it together through partial trial and error.

It wasn't worthy of him.

Maybe he'd sneak it to Tom anyway when he was asleep tonight, rather than give it to him in person.

But Tom figured out the source of the orb with such a simple spell, he'd know it was Harry and Harry couldn't face the judgment of Tom's reaction.

* * *

Tom wished the orb was from Harry. He wanted more than anything that it was from Harry, even if it wasn't much, even if it hadn't seemed all that special. It was definitely handmade by a student, through muggle craft means, but still with a lot of effort and time.

Perhaps he'd have pity on the girl and at least thank her for making it herself. But that might only encourage her.

Ugh.

Even if Harry didn't feel the same, maybe he could convince the boy to at least pretend for a week or so to get everyone off his back.

Maybe he'd do that next year to give him an excuse to not accept this crap from others.

When they went to bed that night, Tom found he couldn't sleep, and watched as Harry, after an hour of laying in the darkness, silently sat up and pulled something out of his nightstand. A box, wrapped with a bow and looking old and battered with age. It wasn't the most remarkable looking gift, not in the darkness, but the boy looked at it with such a crestfallen expression that Tom's heart ached. Who'd given it to Harry and when? Did they break his heart?

Maybe he'd look after Harry went to sleep and see who it was from. He'd avenge his friend somehow against whoever put that look on Harry's face.

Harry turned his face slightly to look in Tom's direction but couldn't see Tom watching him, and made to get up, hesitated, and then shook his head and quickly put it back where he'd hidden it. After another moment of staring at his nightstand, Harry went back to bed, his back to Tom.

What was that about?

When he was sure Harry was soundly asleep, Tom silently slipped out of his own bed and looked for the gift in the nightstand.  
  
The box was wrapped in a soft-silver paper with a bow in black around it. It was mostly unassuming, but it looked a few years or more old like Harry had kept it but never opened it; it had been frequently handled, however, if the worn corners on the paper and slightly loose ribbon around it were any indications.  
  
With another glance to Harry's sleeping form, Tom fetched his wand and whispered a spell to open it carefully. He didn't want Harry to know that someone had been in it. There was a black box underneath the paper and, after a slight hesitation when guilt settled in his stomach, Tom opened it.  
  
Inside was something like a snowglobe. The base was made of silver and carved with filigree made into little snakes along the side. It wasn't perfect, as if a child had drawn snakes and then traced them onto the silver. The orb itself emitted a soft glow as if sunlight was captured and placed behind the glass. There was a small mound of dirt with cut grass sprouting from it. In the center of it all was a snowdrop, frozen in time and yet gently swaying with the grass in an unseen breeze.  
  
It was simple but definitely made by someone who cared about the recipient. The detail lay in the personal nature of the gift; it was planned with the receiver's preferences in mind.  
  
As odd it was, Tom found it sweet.  
  
There was a pang of jealousy that someone gave it to Harry, that someone other than their circle of friends made this for him.  
  
But Harry hadn't opened it. He wondered why.  
  
With the forlorn expression he could scarcely see on Harry's face in the darkness a short while ago, maybe Harry hadn't because it hurt to think about the one who gifted it to him. What happened between them? Was it a childhood friend from before school started Harry never spoke of? That couldn't be it as no one in Harry's life before Hogwarts knew magic aside from his parents, but Harry's parents died when he was a baby.  
  
So he got it after he started school.  
  
Tom tried to remember someone Harry knew in their time at Hogwarts that he may have been close to but that the boy had a falling out with. Tom couldn't think of anyone. Sure, Harry wasn't liked by _everyone_ , but that's normal for every person that's ever lived. You can't please them all.  
  
On the whole, Tom was at a loss over it.  
  
And while he wished he could figure it out without his magic, it would drive him up a wall if he didn't know. He cast the same spell he'd used on Lavender's gift.  
  
Harry's face appeared in the smoke above the snowglobe.  
  
So Harry made it for someone else? Who was it for?  
  
Tom didn't know a spell for that one, unfortunately. So it would remain a mystery unless he figured it out on his own. Either way, someone in Harry's life hurt him in some way or another and Tom had to know who to torment because of it.  
  
He whispered another spell to rewrap the present to how it was before and returned it to the nightstand.  
  
The question of who it was originally for tore at his mind for the remainder of the night.  
  
Perhaps he could discreetly ask their friends if they had an idea of anyone who'd hurt Harry's feelings in one way or another, to find out if Harry had ever cared enough for someone to make something like that for them.  


* * *

  
Hermione and Ron were of no help. Neville and Luna were both unsure, though Luna seemed to have an idea; if she had a theory, she didn't tell Tom, wouldn't tell Tom. Barty and Ginny didn't know either. Draco looked a little more cautious about answering Tom's questions than Luna. Was Draco the one that had hurt Harry? He certainly seemed to know who, and after Tom's reaction to Harry being dosed with a love potion, Draco wouldn't tell him out of fear that he'd go on a rampage again.  
  
Tom wouldn't be so foolish as to be that obvious about it again, but Draco didn't know that.  
  
He was still learning, but he knew enough to sneak into someone's mind when he made eye contact with them.  
  
"Has Harry been acting strangely since Valentine's?" he asked Draco at lunch before Harry arrived. The boy had stayed behind to talk to McGonagall about something from their lesson, and Tom knew he'd have only a few minutes.  
  
Draco met his eyes and shrugged, "I haven't noticed anything out of the ordinary, no. Why? What's he been doing?"  
  
Tom quickly slipped in to see if Draco had any theories, or if he was lying. 'It's you, you git. He's always like this at Valentine's because of your sorry, oblivious arse.'

Tom was the cause? What had he done? Or not done?  
  
He quickly exited and nodded, looking at his plate a moment. "I don't know. He seemed a little...sluggish the last few days is all. I wondered if something was wrong."  
  
Tom tried again when Draco continued, "I didn't see anything. Sorry, Tom. Have you tried asking him?" 'Ugh, the moony eyes the guy gives you. Wanna gag because he's so smitten and won't do anything. He needs a good shag or something to get over it.'  
  
"No, not yet. I didn't want to pressure him if he wasn't ready to confide in us." Draco hummed and went back to eating.  
  
Moony eyes for Tom? He wasn't oblivious! He noticed everything. Draco was...probably seeing things. Projecting, or something. Maybe he wanted Harry in their relationship too.  
  
It didn't sit well with him.  


* * *

  
Tom wasn't acting right. Harry couldn't put his finger on it, but he was acting differently, and it set Harry on edge. Had something happened? Who pissed him off? Or was he working on a project for a class that had him this distracted?  
  
Sitting in the grass by the lake, hugging his knees to his chest while he read a book hovering in front of him, he heard someone approaching. Their steps were even, tightly controlled and light. Tom.  
  
Sure enough, the boy stopped when he reached the tree Harry was sitting under.  
  
"You missed lunch," he chided.  
  
Frowning, Harry checked the time and groaned. Now that he knew he'd missed it, his stomach growled. "Sorry. Wasn't paying attention."  
  
With an overdramatic, put upon sigh, Tom held out a bag to him. "I assumed as much. I brought you some."  
  
"Stars above, you're my hero." Harry quickly took the bag and pulled out a box with the lunch Tom packed for him in it. It was a sandwich day, it seemed. Not that Harry minded. Even the sandwiches here were a gift from the gods. He'd never eaten so well.  
  
"I expect you to erect a statue in my honor in the courtyard then."  
  
"And have Filtch try to expel me? No, thank you." He swallowed a bite of his meal and shot Tom a grin. "I'll have to find some other way to honor your ego."  
  
"I have a healthy dose of ego; thank you very much." Tom gracefully took a seat beside Harry in the shade.  
  
"Keep telling yourself that."  
  
Tom rolled his eyes and lightly elbowed Harry in the side. "Eat your lunch. I don't know how you manage to remain skin and bone, even with as much as you eat. It's not fair, honestly. A metabolism like that is one of envy."  
  
"All the training I do for that barbaric sport you hate so much."  
  
"It's distasteful. The beaters are what make it so. As a seeker, your job is far less violent and more critical with its need for the fastest reaction time. It's admirable to need that level of attention and observation."  
  
"It's 'cause the snitch is shiny. Love shiny things," Harry joked around a mouthful of apple.  
  
"Don't talk with your mouth full. It's an abhorrent habit of Ron's, and we can't have you developing one either."  
  
Harry, with a shit eating grin on his face, took another bite of his apple and purposefully started on a rant about how much he loves catching the snitch. Tom spelled his mouth closed to silence him with a smirk of his own.  
  
"Don't make me change my mind about seekers, brat."  
  
The withering look he received was worth it. Once Harry swallowed, Tom ended the spell to let Harry talk again.  
  
"Bastard."  
  
"True, but rude."  
  
They sat in silence as Harry finished his lunch. Harry could tell something was on his mind, and after a while, he finally asked. "Are you okay, Tom? You've not...you are acting strangely lately, and I'm worried."  
  
Tom met Harry's eyes and his blank expression softened just a little. He still seemed reluctant to answer, however.  
  
But after a time, he chose not to answer and instead asked, "What about you? You have been a little off since Valentine's Day as well."  
  
"I asked first, Tom."  
  
"But I noticed your behavior first, Harry."  
  
"You can't prove that!" Harry exclaimed, incredulous. The bastard.  
  
"And neither can you." Harry groaned in annoyance, and Tom's satisfied smirk served to both increase Harry's annoyance and leave him a little flustered. The prick and that stupid smile of his, no matter the type or meaning behind it; Harry almost hated him for it.  
  
But Harry wasn't the first to cave this time.  
  
"My behavior is due to my worry for you, Harry. I swear, our moods influence each other's and it's sometimes infuriating." He wasn't really complaining...much. It helped him better understand his friend when Tom felt it too. Ginny said that it meant that he really _did_ have a heart. He sent a stinging hex at her, which she dodged with a laugh and disappeared before Tom could try again.  
  
"Sap."  
  
"Never. Now it's your turn."  
  
"Worried for you too, honestly. But Valentine's is always a bit rough, I guess. It was growing up, and it didn't really improve when we started school."  
  
"What, not popular enough, Harry? I'll share my gifts with you if it makes you feel better."  
  
"You're an asshole."  
  
"Mm, but you wouldn't have me any other way," Tom teased quietly.  
  
Harry grudgingly muttered that he wouldn't.  
  
There was a beat of silence, and with a slightly guilty expression, Tom asked, "What was in that gift you had the other night?"  
  
Tom watched as the color drained out of Harry's face and his panic set in. He'd given up trying to figure out who it was for on his own.  
  
"That's...that's private, Tom. I don't want to--" Harry looked up at Tom, and the boy seemed to sag a little. "You already know, don't you?"  
  
Tom's grimace was enough, and Harry sighed, quickly casting his gaze to the lake. "Made it for someone, decided to not give it to them. That's enough."  
  
"Why didn't you?"  
  
"Because it was a stupid idea and looks awful. Why the hell would they want something like that?" he snapped.  
  
"Yet you've had it for a long time."  
  
"And?"  
  
"And I believe you still want them to have it, that, or you're a masochist who likes lying to yourself about how your work isn't good enough for anyone." Tom leaned against the tree rather than just in its shade, to close a little of the distance between them.  
  
"Well, yeah. I wish I weren't a coward, but it's absolute shit. A kid made that, a kid who had no idea what the hell he was doing and can't figure out how to make a better one that they'd like. And that's if they actually...forget it. It's not important, Tom."  
  
"It obviously is if you're still upset about the whole thing." Tom huffed, "Who hurt you so I can curse them for it? Let's get that over with at least."  
  
Harry snorted and shook his head. "I'd rather not. 'Sides, you're not the one who would have to look at them every day, knowing they found out and sneered at you over it."  
  
Who the hell would be that cruel to Harry? The kid was fairly genuine, doted on the younger students and kept them from being bullied in their house and Gryffindor when he was with Ron and Hermione for "study dates," was a little too forgiving, and had a warped sense of humor that caught most people off guard.  
  
"Yes, but if I curse them, they may not have a mouth or eyes to sneer with," Tom countered.  
  
"Yeah, but they have really nice eyes and smile, and I'd hate to see it go. Honestly, I'd rather take the sneering, as shallow as it is for liking their looks."  
  
"For the love of Merlin, Harry. Who is it already?"  
  
"I don't have to tell you."  
  
"You tell me just about everything else."  
  
Harry threw up his hands and made to stand, but Tom grabbed his hand and tugged him back down. "No. At least vent to me about them or something. You don't have to give me their names or describe their looks, but at least get it off your chest."  
  
The boy glared at him for a second, the internal struggle to just snatch his hand away and run away from his problems or to suck it up and get it over with...or just admit it.  
  
"Fucking hell, you're an idiot, Tom."  
  
"I beg your pardon?" That was uncalled for.  
  
Harry stood up again, but rather than running away, he started to pace, running his hands through his hair and making a bigger mess of it. The agitated air around him was infectious, and Tom was beginning to feel the effects of the irritated energy that surrounded Harry.  
  
"You notice every damn detail about everything. You don't forget anything, ever. And yet you can't even...or you know, and you're pretending you don't, which will just really piss me off, and I may just slug you for it." His pacing stopped, and then he started up again when he continued his rant about Tom and his obliviousness. About how Tom frustrated him to no end because he was so damn perfect and _he_ never had a problem in the world with shit like this because he'd never fallen in love with someone and 'don't you dare scoff at that because I know you hate the phrase.' Tom felt a little helpless as Harry unloaded years of frustration with Tom and how Harry felt like he was so damn insignificant in comparison because Tom got everything right and he could have anyone in the world without ever asking because everyone in this damn school was smitten with him. If Tom tried, he could get six dates, and manage to fit them all in one day, while still making each of those people feel like no one else mattered in the world and how the fuck did he do that?  
  
"So...you're...afraid they'd turn you down because you think they want me?" he asked slowly. Tom was lost. What did any of this have to do with him otherwise? "I...won't try to steal them from you, if that's one of your worries."  
  
"Fucking hell! I'm not worried you'll steal them from me or that they'd want you more! I'm worried that you would pick anyone in the world over me because how in the hell can I compete with half of the people that go here and come close to being fucking good enough and I made that damn gift for _you_ in our first year! That's why I started taking those extra lessons in the evenings! It wasn't because I wanted to better in school. I mean, I did because then maybe you'd look at me or...I wanted to know how to make that piece of shit to give to you for Valentine's so that maybe you'd have something to remind you that you'd be back in school soon enough over the summer holidays and you wouldn't feel so alone or miserable because I know you hate it there but it just..." He looked close to tears. "You had so many gifts. Why would you want just another thing that looked like a five-year-old could have done better with?"  
  
Harry clenched his jaw, flexing and unflexing his fists in a futile attempt to not cry over the damn thing. He was old enough and had been through enough shit that he didn't cry anymore. He forgot how to; if he'd ever remembered how to cry since he was taken in by his aunt and uncle.  
  
Tom was at a loss. So Draco's theories were correct; it wasn't like the boy had imagined the looks Harry gave Tom. Harry really did...Tom felt like an idiot, and yet, this was so unbelievably expected of the two of them that he shouldn't have felt surprised.  
  
"Harry..."  
  
"Don't!"  
  
"Harry." Tom reached out and grabbed Harry's hand before he could bolt or dodge him. With a tug, he pulled Harry down to him and hugged him. "You absolutely...foolish, brilliant, beautiful idiot."  
  
"Tom, let go." Harry struggled against his hold, but Tom held fast and wouldn't let Harry pull away.  
  
"No, I don't think I will."  
  
"This isn't...funny, or a joke. Let. Me. Go."  
  
Tom let Harry pull away only a fraction so he could see Harry's face. He looked terrified and so damn broken hearted that Tom wanted to curse himself for being the cause.  
  
He'd always thought that Harry had been too good for him. Harry, while spirited and fierce when the moment was right, was always so kind and gentle. Brilliant, but he thought with his heart more than his head. Between the two of them, Harry _was_ the heart. Tom only restrained himself as much as he did for Harry. More so for him than for their friends. Although he did care for them and would defend them when they needed it, but who else in this damn school would he risk expulsion for?  
  
He reached up and wiped Harry's face with his sleeve.  
  
"Tom, please let me go."  
  
"Harry? Do I get to respond, or are you going to run off before I get to?"  
  
"I'd rather run off, thanks for asking."  
  
Tom rolled his eyes, made it over the top, so Harry knew he didn't mean it, and then pulled Harry's face in to kiss him. It was chaste, but it was enough to stun Harry so he wouldn't run off for a few more moments.  
  
"You silly boy," he murmured. "Do you have any idea how wonderful you are? There is far too much goodness in you to ever need to lower yourself for me. I'm not kind. I'm not good. I can be cruel and heartless and lash out over the smallest infraction while you are forgiving and try to understand first. There is so much light in you, and I am terrified that I will one day ruin it, taint it." Tom kissed his cheek. "Don't ever fear that you're not good enough for me, Harry. You're so much better than I could ever be and you deserve so much more than what I or anyone in this world could give you."  
  
Harry didn't look appeased. In fact, he looked more broken up about Tom's response. Oh. Did it come across as Tom turning him down? That wasn't his intention.  
  
"Harry, I love you dearly. So fucking much that you could give me a rock you found in the woods and I'd be over the moon about it." He kissed his other cheek. "I don't go around risking expulsion for just anyone either. You're the only human being I let within arm's reach of me when you're a sweaty disaster after practice, and I wouldn't put my lips anywhere near someone else's unless I wanted them. Terribly. Do you have any idea how unfair it is that you're this brilliant, shining light in this miserable life? And you're gorgeous, whether it's when you just wake up with pillow marks and dried drool on your cheek, in dress robes, or fresh off the pitch. No one should look that delectable when they appear to have wrestled with a troll."  
  
He wiped at Harry's face again and tugged him onto his lap. "I was ready to strangle whoever made you look that upset when you were looking at that gift, and then jealous when I figured out you made it. Honestly, only a fool would turn it down."  
  
"It looks awful though," Harry argued. "I can draw, but I can't mold metal to save myself. And I don't know how long the magic will last on it. Could go bad any minute."  
  
"And you think I'd throw it out if it did? Honestly, Harry." Tom hugged Harry to him again and sat there quietly for a minute before he spoke again. "I'm sorry for giving you the impression that I would turn you, or your gift, down, or that you'd be met with scorn for it. I'm sorry for not speaking up sooner."  
  
Harry buried his face in Tom's shoulder, so his response was muffled. "I'm sorry too, for not saying anything, I mean."  
  
Tom snorted, "I don't exactly give off a _vibe_ that welcomes other people's _affections_."  
  
"We'll argue about this all day and get nowhere, Tom."  
  
Tom didn't argue with him on that one.  
  
"So, Harry. Next Hogsmeade trip. Care to have dinner with me?" he asked after a few minutes of holding Harry to him.  
  
"Only if you wear that burgundy shirt," Harry mumbled. "You look really good in it."  
  
"You're stroking my ego, Harry. Thought you hated to do that."  
  
"Shut up."  
  
"It'll cost you." When Harry pulled back to frown at him, confused, Tom pointedly looked at Harry's lips. The small, but delighted smile that spread across his face had Tom smiling too. Tom's smile only grew when Harry rushed forward to kiss him.  
  
Neither knew how long it lasted, but when they pulled apart, Harry muttered, "You have no idea how long I've wanted to know what that felt like."  
  
"Kissing in general? Or kissing me?"  
  
"You, you asshole."  
  
"You call me an asshole and an ass quite a bit, Harry. Something on your mind?" he teased. His grin had Harry turning a faint pink and earned him a swat to the shoulder.  
  
"Fine, fine. Your ass looks great too. Don't get cocky."


	5. The Mating Rituals of the Wampus and a Very Human Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This isn't what the title sounds like, I swear.  
> Newt is fed an unknown truth potion and he gushes about Percival.
> 
> Warning: Non-con potion usage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost had him gushing about Percival to all of the aurors and them asking him horrible/inappropriate questions but decided that'd be too much and Tina wouldn't let them anywhere near Newt.  
> Percy is both flattered and terrified. Once everything is done and over with and Newt can look him in the eye again, he'll ask him out properly.

"He has quite the arse on him," he said, staring at the doorway where Graves was talking to the auror he was letting handle the crime scene until he and Tina could go back.

 

"Newt, until this potion wears off, you really need to at least keep your voice down." Tina threw up a privacy ward, eyes darting between Newt and her boss.

 

The poachers had caught Newt halfway through his wampus rescue and forced a strange potion down his throat. They wanted to know how to get into his case, but the potion didn't force you to tell the truth to specific questions like veritaserum, just...whatever popped into your head. An example being Newt waxing poetic about her boss' ass. She and Graves managed to find Newt and save him before the smugglers got any useful information out of him about his case, but...

 

The problem started then—with Newt rambling on about his interest in the subject of comparing wampus mating habits with humans and would Graves help him try it out and could Tina take notes throughout the process? Why did she have to be the one to take notes? Make Abernathy do it! He's the one that had moony eyes over both men—neither of which knew he existed, unfortunately for him. She turned Newt down for the both of them, and Graves shot her a grateful look. Likely, he wouldn't know how to turn Newt down without hurting his feelings in some way or another. He was blushing just as much as Tina, which would have made the situation hilarious if she weren't embarrassed too.

 

By the time they got to the hospital to have Newt checked out, Newt had confessed to having a crush on Leta growing up, then running away from her because Theseus liked her, and how much it hurt that she didn't speak up for Newt after the stunt she pulled that ultimately led to Newt being asked to leave Hogwarts, and then he started complimenting Graves. Tina knew Newt didn't like to talk about Leta, and he certainly wouldn't tell anyone but her and Queenie how he felt about Graves, and the potion had him spilling secret after secret. She wondered if he realized he was doing it.

 

Probably not, or he'd have long since shut himself away in his case or found a way to silence himself if he couldn't escape. He was dazed as he rambled on about anything and everything. But mostly about Director Graves whenever the other was in Newt's line of sight.

 

"But Tina, _Merlin_ , he looks so handsome when he's scaring the new hires."

 

"Uh, Newt?"

 

"It's completely unfair that someone who scares me so can be this attractive—"

 

"Newt, you might want to stop—"

 

"—while doing it. It's like being a wampus' prey, but perceiving it as a mating ritual when cornered at the end of a hunt rather than fearing for your life."

 

"Newt, Mister Graves is right behind you."

 

Said man was blushing. The red went from his ears down to his neck, where it disappeared into his shirt.

 

Newt didn't seem to care, as he let his head fall back against the back of his chair to smile lazily at Graves. "Oh, wonderful! The good looking wampus is back."

 

"Goldstein, please tell me these people have figured out a way to counteract this damnable thing, for everyone's sake." For his sake, the sake of Tina's sanity, and for Newt's anxiety and ensuing embarrassment when the potion wore off.

 

"No, sir."

 

"Mister Scamander." Graves took a small step back and hid his face behind one hand. As embarrassing as it was, Graves was genuinely flattered by Newt's confessions and was now encouraged to pursue Newt after this all blew over—and Newt could stand to be around him again without squeaking before he ran in the other direction. "I...I regret to inform you that I'm not a wampus."

 

"And thank Merlin for that." Newt beamed, eyes lighting up with happiness over an obvious fact. "It would be horrible to want to mate with an actual wampus. Cruel to them, and just so bloody weird for me..."

 

His eyes narrowed a second in thought before he perked up again. "However, you're very much a man. A human man. Which is delightful. Have I mentioned that your behind is a gift from Nature herself? Her best work, I'd say. Your tailored trousers do it justice."

 

To make him stop, Tina panicked and shot Newt with a spell to knock him out. Mercy Lewis, this was ridiculous.

 

"Sir, could we obliviate him? He'll run away to India once he comes to his senses and we'll never see him again."

 

The look on Graves' face told her that he was seriously considering it; Tina wasn't sure if that should be a relief or a concern.

 

"I...no. No, we can't." They would have to hope they could keep Newt from making a run for it.

 

"If we manage to keep him from running, sir, you'd better ask him out or I swear I will lock you both in a room together until you do something." A small smirk tugged at his lips and Tina blushed. "No! Not...not what I meant."

 

"I mean, he does want to compare wampus mating rituals to human and I think—" Tina knocked him out too.

 

"Men..."


	6. Obviously a Better Love Story Than Twilight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A budding romance  
> This is pure crack. Translation in the bottom A/N

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was inspired by some fanart of B.O.B. with a heart speech bubble that was adorable and I had to do this instead of paying attention in class.  
> https://overgosh.tumblr.com/post/179709361272/the-new-girl-in-toooown

**B.O.B:**

> 01011001 01101111 01110101 00100111 01110010 01100101 00100000 01100001 00100000 01110111 01101111 01110010 01101011 00100000 01101111 01100110 00100000 01100001 01110010 01110100 00101100 00100000 01101101 01100001 00100111 01100001 01101101 00101100 00100000 01100001 01100010 01110011 01101111 01101100 01110101 01110100 01100101 01101100 01111001 00100000 01100010 01100101 01100001 01110101 01110100 01101001 01100110 01110101 01101100 00100001 00100000 01011001 01101111 01110101 01110010 00100000 01100011 01101111 01100100 01100101 00100000 01101001 01110011 00100000 01110011 01101111 01110000 01101000 01101001 01110011 01110100 01101001 01100011 01100001 01110100 01100101 01100100 00100000 01100010 01100101 01111001 01101111 01101110 01100100 00100000 01100011 01101111 01101101 01110000 01100001 01110010 01100101 00101100 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 01110010 00100000 01101001 01101110 01110100 01100101 01101100 01101100 01101001 01100111 01100101 01101110 01100011 01100101 00101100 00100000 01100001 00100000 01100111 01101001 01100110 01110100 00100000 01110100 01101111 00100000 01110100 01101000 01101001 01110011 00100000 01110111 01101111 01110010 01101100 01100100 00101110

**Orisa:**

> 01011001 01101111 01110101 00100111 01110010 01100101 00100000 01110100 01101111 01101111 00100000 01101011 01101001 01101110 01100100 00101100 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100001 01101110 01101011 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 00101110 00100000 01000101 01100110 01101001 00100000 01101001 01110011 00100000 01100001 00100000 01100010 01110010 01101001 01101100 01101100 01101001 01100001 01101110 01110100 00101100 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 01101110 01100111 00100000 01100111 01101001 01110010 01101100 00101100 00100000 01100001 01101110 01100100 00100000 01101011 01101001 01101110 01100100 00101101 01101000 01100101 01100001 01110010 01110100 01100101 01100100 00101110

**B.O.B.:**

> 01010011 01101000 01100101 00100000 01101101 01100001 01111001 00100000 01101000 01100001 01110110 01100101 00100000 01100011 01110010 01100101 01100001 01110100 01100101 01100100 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 00101100 00100000 01100010 01110101 01110100 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 00100000 01101000 01100001 01110110 01100101 00100000 01100110 01101100 01101111 01110111 01100101 01110010 01100101 01100100 00100000 01101001 01101110 01110100 01101111 00100000 01100001 00100000 01100010 01100101 01100001 01110101 01110100 01101001 01100110 01110101 01101100 00100000 01101001 01101110 01100100 01101001 01110110 01101001 01100100 01110101 01100001 01101100 00100000 01100001 01101100 01101100 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 01110010 00100000 01101111 01110111 01101110 00101100 00100000 01001101 01101001 01110011 01110011 00100000 01001111 01110010 01101001 01110011 01100001 00101110

**Orisa, fans whirring to keep cool b/c robo blushing, here we come:**

> 01001111 01101000 00101100 00100000 01101000 01100001 00100001 00100000 01010101 01101101 00101100 00100000 01110100 01101000 00101101 01110100 01101000 01100001 01101110 01101011 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 00101110 00100000 01011001 01101111 01110101 00100000 01110011 01101000 01101111 01110101 01101100 01100100 00100000 01100010 01100101 00100000 01110000 01110010 01101111 01110101 01100100 00100000 01101111 01100110 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 01110010 00100000 01101111 01110111 01101110 00100000 01100001 01100011 01100011 01101111 01101101 01110000 01101100 01101001 01110011 01101000 01101101 01100101 01101110 01110100 01110011 00101110 00100000 01011001 01101111 01110101 00100000 01110011 01100101 01100101 01101101 00100000 01110100 01101111 00100000 01100010 01100101 00100000 01100001 00100000 01101011 01101001 01101110 01100100 00100000 01100001 01101110 01100100 00100000 01100111 01100101 01101110 01110100 01101100 01100101 00100000 01110011 01101111 01110101 01101100 00101110

**B.O.B, also doing the robo blush:**

> 01001111 01101000 00101100 00100000 01001001 00100000 01110111 01101001 01110011 01101000 00100000 01101101 01100001 00100111 01100001 01101101 00101110 00100000 01001001 00100111 01101101 00100000 01101110 01101111 01110100 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100001 01110100 00100000 01100111 01101111 01101111 01100100 00100000 01101111 01100110 00100000 01100001 01101110 00100000 01101111 01101101 01101110 01101001 01100011 00101100 00100000 01001001 00100000 01100001 01110011 01110011 01110101 01110010 01100101 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 00101110 00100000 01001110 01101111 01110100 01101000 01101001 01101110 01100111 00100000 01101100 01101001 01101011 01100101 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 01110010 01110011 01100101 01101100 01100110 00101110 00100000 01001001 00100111 01101101 00101110 00101110 00101110 01100001 00100000 01100010 01101001 01110100 00100000 01101111 01100110 00100000 01100001 00100000 01110010 01110101 01100110 01100110 01101001 01100001 01101110 00101100 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 00100000 01110011 01100101 01100101 00101110 00100000 01001000 01100001 01110010 01100100 00100000 01100101 01100100 01100111 01100101 01110011 00101100 00100000 01101100 01101001 01110100 01110100 01101100 01100101 00100000 01110011 01101111 01110000 01101000 01101001 01110011 01110100 01101001 01100011 01100001 01110100 01101001 01101111 01101110 00100000 01101101 01101111 01110011 01110100 00100000 01100100 01100001 01111001 01110011 00101100 00100000 01110101 01101110 01101100 01101001 01101011 01100101 00100000 01100001 00100000 01110010 01100101 01100110 01101001 01101110 01100101 01100100 00100000 01101111 01101101 01101110 01101001 01100011 00100000 01110011 01110101 01100011 01101000 00100000 01100001 01110011 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 01110010 01110011 01100101 01101100 01100110 00101110

**Orisa, now coy:**

> 01011001 01101111 01110101 00100111 01110010 01100101 00100000 01101101 01101111 01110010 01100101 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100001 01101110 00100000 01100011 01100001 01110000 01100001 01100010 01101100 01100101 00100000 01101111 01100110 00100000 01110011 01101111 01110000 01101000 01101001 01110011 01110100 01101001 01100011 01100001 01110100 01101001 01101111 01101110 00101100 00100000 01110011 01101001 01110010 00101110 00100000 01011001 01101111 01110101 00100000 01101000 01100001 01110110 01100101 00100000 01101101 01100001 01101110 01101110 01100101 01110010 01110011 00101100 00100000 01110101 01101110 01101100 01101001 01101011 01100101 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 01110010 00100000 01100110 01100101 01101100 01101100 01101111 01110111 01110011 00101110 00100000 01011001 01101111 01110101 00100000 01110011 01100101 01100101 01101101 00100000 01110100 01101111 00100000 01100010 01100101 00100000 01101010 01110101 01110011 01110100 00100000 01100001 01110011 00100000 01100111 01100101 01101110 01110100 01101100 01100101 00101110

**B.O.B. is still robo blushing:**

> 01011001 01101111 01110101 00100000 01101000 01100001 01110110 01100101 01101110 00100111 01110100 00100000 01110011 01100101 01100101 01101110 00100000 01101101 01100101 00100000 01101001 01101110 00100000 01100001 00100000 01100110 01101001 01100111 01101000 01110100 00100000 01101101 01100001 00100111 01100001 01101101 00101110

**Orisa:**

> 01000001 01101110 01100100 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 00100000 01101000 01100001 01110110 01100101 00100000 01111001 01100101 01110100 00100000 01110100 01101111 00100000 01110011 01100101 01100101 00100000 01101101 01100101 00100000 01101001 01101110 00100000 01100010 01100001 01110100 01110100 01101100 01100101 00101110 00100000 01001111 01101110 01100101 00100000 01100011 01100001 01101110 00100000 01100110 01101001 01100111 01101000 01110100 00100000 01110111 01101001 01110100 01101000 00100000 01100111 01110010 01100001 01100011 01100101 01100110 01110101 01101100 00100000 01110000 01101111 01101001 01110011 01100101 00101100 00100000 01100001 00100000 01110010 01100101 01100110 01101001 01101110 01100101 01100100 00100000 01100001 01101110 01100100 00100000 01110000 01110010 01100101 01100011 01101001 01110011 01100101 00100000 01110011 01101001 01100111 01101000 01110100 00101110

**B.O.B., is then wishing for robo marriage.**

**Ashe, somewhere in the distance:**

> CAN Y'ALL STOP WITH THE DIAL-UP TONES OVER THERE! 'S FREAKIN' ME OUT!

**Efi, almost as loud:**

> SHUT UP THEYRE IN LOVE.

**Efi gets a license to marry omnics and officiates the wedding a year later, becoming the world's youngest omnic marriage officiator.**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bob: You're a work of art, ma'am, absolutely beautiful! Your code is sophisticated beyond compare, your intelligence, a gift to this world.  
> Orisa: You're too kind, thank you. Efi is a brilliant, young girl, and kind-hearted.  
> Bob: She may have created you, but you have flowered into a beautiful individual all your own, Miss Orisa.  
> Orisa: Oh, ha! Um, th-thank you. You should be proud of your own accomplishments. You seem to be a kind and gentle soul.  
> Bob: Oh, I wish ma'am. I'm not that good of an omnic, I assure you. Nothing like yourself. I'm...a bit of a ruffian, you see. Hard edges, little sophistication most days, unlike a refined omnic such as yourself.  
> Orisa: You're more than capable of sophistication, sir. You have manners, unlike your fellows. You seem to be just as gentle.  
> Bob: You haven't seen me in a fight ma'am.  
> Orisa: And you have yet to see me in battle. One can fight with graceful poise, a refined and precise sight.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on Tumblr at Momma-times-writings.


End file.
